


The Courage Of Stars

by geckoholic, Luovien (Aeiouna)



Series: Aei's Podfics [8]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Audio Format: MP3, Audio Format: Streaming, Blow Jobs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, M/M, Podfic, Podfic Length: 30-45 Minutes, Post-Season/Series 02, Rescue Missions, Season/Series 01, blade of marmora
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 21:49:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11518182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckoholic/pseuds/geckoholic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeiouna/pseuds/Luovien
Summary: Home isn't always a place. Sometimes, home is another person.





	The Courage Of Stars

**Author's Note:**

> This idea was ignited by several sparks, but the biggest ones were the song that gives it its title, and [this drawing](https://twitter.com/synnesai/status/822828246097985537) by synnesai@twitter, so some credit for its inception goes there. Other than that, yeah. A post S2 "Keith comes to lead the Blades and takes them to search for Shiro" AU, and at the same time a get-together story set early S1. Nothing revolutionary, but hey! I wrote actual plot-adjacent canonverse Sheith. Yay? XD
> 
> Beta-read by dragonescence. Thank you!! ♥ All remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> Title is from "Saturn" by Sleeping At Last.
> 
>  
> 
> geckoholic in other places: [lostemotion@tumblr](http://lostemotion.tumblr.com), [spacenerdz@twitter](https://twitter.com/spacenerdz)

[Download](https://drive.google.com/uc?export=download&id=0B8Ghuoh1WFQhYlRER1JNRXU2SDQ)

 

 

 

 

The sun is burning down relentlessly on Keith's back, and not for the first time he wonders if there's something like sunscreen in space. He hasn't yet asked – there was rarely time for such banal things on the castle-ship, and full Galra don't seem to have need for it anyway. And maybe that's why Keith never really got sunburned back on Earth either; Galran genes working in his favor. He wonders about that now and then, what's the alien in him and what's the human. Because that's the other option for his predisposition to deal with hot climates: he can’t say where he was born, but he was raised in a desert. He knows how to handle the heat.

Right now, he stands waiting in another desert, on a planet far from Earth, in a valley between two large, tall cliffs, and watches his second in command talk to a group of natives. The inhabitants of this world were among the benefactors of the Galran Empire, made rich by its proximity to an important sales outpost, and they respond better to Beltok than they do to a former Paladin. Keith tries not to fault them for it, see this from their perspective. He mostly fails, and that’s another reason why Beltok does the negotiations.

It’s not like Keith is bad at diplomacy, per se. That was one of many lessons he learned when he took over as Black Paladin, quickly and in the field, no room for mistakes or second chances. But his patience is frail these days, and his temper runs hot. Not a good mood for asking favors from people who blame him for their sudden fall from prosperity.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

By the time it sinks in that he's _in space_ piloting a _magical lion_ to fight _alien warships_ , Keith has been on the castle-ship for several days and already flown said magical lion a handful of times, in combat and in training. Or perhaps it's only beginning to sink in: reality trickling into his consciousness like sand through an hourglass, because everything, all of this, is too much to process at once. Too fantastic. Incomprehensible.

In any case, the slow adjustment to his new normal means his mind has room for something else than wonder or abject fear. And that something descends on him all at once, over a late dinner after their fourth day of training, when it gaze wanders to Shiro without his intent or conscious permission. That is not a new habit; there have been countless meals in the Garrison mess hall where Keith watched Shiro, watched him chat to other cadets, watched him joke and talk shop and, every now and then, smile back.

The Shiro that Keith's looking at now doesn't smile. He's sitting mutely in front of his plate of food goo, staring at his spoon without eating. He's pale and withdrawn, his framer larger and bulkier than before, and yet he only seems like half a person. Like some part of him was left behind with the Galra, irretrievably gone, and the rest of him tries to make up for what was lost but strains under the attempt. And it almost works, keeps him functional and allows him to take charge, pretend that what's left still adds up to full and real human being.

It's just in contrast, when the now overlays the then in Keith's mind, that the missing parts become startlingly, painfully obvious. And yet, when Shiro does look up and meets Keith's eyes, they still light up and become accompanied by a an upturn of his lips. Past and present line up in a different way, and Keith has to look away because that doesn't make anything easier; it makes everything hurt more. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees the small smile on Shiro's face die, and it's too much. It's all too much, and he calmly sets own his spoon, pushes his plate away, and walks out of the room. Walks, slowly, because if he starts running now he might never stop and there's so much more at stake here than his grief for a person that's back in his life and yet still missing among faraway and unreachable stars.

 

***

 

They're too small a group for tension to go unnoticed, and so it's only another day or two before Hunk pulls him aside. There had been another mind-meld exercise and this time it was Keith who kept botching it, and there really is no room for secrets among the Paladins.

God. Fuck. _Paladins._ That still sounds so strange on his tongue, in his thoughts, like so many of the new words that name essential parts of his new life.

Keith remains in the common area as the others scatter, all of them still raw enough that seeking out and taking on another's pain might make the fragile grasp they have on this new reality shatter. All of them but Hunk, and Keith makes no attempt to flee and hide when he sees him approach the... well, couch, for lack of the correct Altean term.

“It might help you both,” Hunk says as he slumps down heavily on the – the... Keith is just going to call them cushions. “If you'd go talk to him.”

“I know,” says Keith, looking at his hands.

The problem is, he has never been a great talker. Relationships sort of formed themselves around him, and even with Shiro, back at the Garrison, it was Shiro who did most of the work. Who picked Keith and wouldn't stop trying, stop reaching out, until Keith reached back. Keith communicates in gestures, and he doesn't know how to translate _I fucked up my one chance at higher education and the career we both fought for so hard because I couldn't deal with the thought that I'd lost you_ into words of comfort and reassurance. If those would even be the right choice; but they must be, because a declaration of love, confessing feelings that had been kept hidden for months and years back on earth, surely would not help either of them.

“Pidge just told me she's seen him head for the bridge,” Hunk says, reaching out to awkwardly pat Keith's shoulder, and then he rises to his feet and hands Keith back over to solitude.

Another couple minutes pass as Keith stews in it, and then he also stands and marches off in direction of the castle's bridge before he can change his mind, lose his bravado.

 

***

 

Keith expected to find Shiro immersed in some strategic task, going over space maps with Coran or learning about all the different alien races and their suspected allegiances with Allura, but Shiro is alone. He's standing in front of the large glass screen that separates them from the vastness of space, hands clasped behind his back. There's a small tremor going through his body when Keith shouts his name, announcing his presence, and Keith wants to scream.

When he turns, Shiro's expression is calm and composed, but his eyes are empty. Or maybe not empty, but the opposite: they're too full, crowded with the echo of memories and an agony Keith couldn't even being to understand.

“Yeah?” he says, and his voice is soft and wavers a little, not fully composed yet, and it feels like an admission of trust Keith's not sure he's earned or deserves.

“I...” he starts, and then tapers off. He still doesn't have enough words at his command to convey what he wants say – no, Hunk's right, what he _needs_ to say – and the patience in Shiro's eyes, always and forever watching him learn, doesn't make it easier to find them. “I missed you,” is what he settles for, and Shiro takes a step towards him and smiles.

“I missed you too,” he says, “more than you could ever imagine.”

That might well be true, and Keith's courage falters. He tries not to picture Shiro in a Galran cell, waiting to be allowed back home and slowly losing hope. He wants to run again, hide from the knowledge, because unlike Shiro that's a luxury he still has. Close your eyes and make it not be true, even if only for a short while.

“They're still beautiful, aren't they?” Shiro asks, and he's now looking out at the stars again. Keith follows his line of sight but he's not sure he agrees. The stars lost their beauty for him when he started to blame them for Shiro's disappearance, and with everything he learned in the past week, that grievance persists.

Yet, he nods, because if Shiro has it in his heart to forgive them, then surely Keith has no right to tell him otherwise. “Sure.”

Shiro's shoulders rise and fall on a sigh, and he turns back around. “Back on Earth, we both had plenty reasons to keep what we felt to ourselves. I'm older, I was higher in rank. I was going away. You should have concentrated on graduating, nothing else.”

There's a pause, and it's probably on Keith to fill it, confirm or deny, do _something_. But his throat is dry as sandpaper. Staring at his shoes, arms wrapped around himself, he searches for the strength to at least meet Shiro's gaze again. It is nowhere to be found.

When it becomes obvious that no reply will be forthcoming, Shiro continues. “If there's one thing I learned, though, it's that none of it matters. The ground can fold in on you at any moment, and it won't make a difference whether you gave in or held back. The pain of losing someone remains the same, either way.”

Keith still keeps his gaze trained on the ground while Shiro closes the distance between them and unfolds his arms. He pulls Keith in close and gently moves him around until they're both looking out at the stars, Shiro's mouth pressed to Keith's forehead.

“We have been granted a second chance,” he whispers against Keith's skin. “And I'll be damned if I let this one pass us by as well.”

In a movie or a song, the occasion might have called for a kiss. And that will happen, later. Right now, Keith is content to watch the stars with Shiro by his side. If they stay here long enough, if Keith just lets himself believe, then maybe he'll see their beauty again, too.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Beltok talks and talks, laughs and nods along and sighs in all the right places, and Keith finds himself a rock to perch on while he waits. He’d much rather pace, lose at last some of that pent up excess energy, but he’s got to maintain at least an illusion of decorum. Not so much for the sake of Beltok and the rest of his men; they value passion and dedication to one’s cause, after all each of them decided to join and risk their life for a rebel organization. Keith guesses they understand that his motivations in this case are very private and personal, but that doesn’t seem to matter. On the contrary, those of the group who stood close to Ulaz and Thace’s cause and methods seem to harbor a sense of responsibility towards Shiro, much in the way of the old earth saying that states if you save a man’s life you shall henceforth be his keeper. At least that’s how Keith remembers it – he might be completely off on that one. He’s never been big on literature and folklore, books for him were tools to learn about a possible future, not look back at a distant past.

The natives, however, might look even less kindly on the request brought before them if they knew its main purpose is to reunite one man with his lost lover. The official narrative is a rescue mission for an accomplished former leader of Voltron, the person whose bravery and sacrifices made its rediscovery possible in the first place, because that’s what he’s owed now that the Galra have been defeated. That’s the story they’re selling on most worlds: recovering a war hero. And it’s not a lie, Keith has decided, because all that is also true.

He doesn’t particularly care what version of the truth Beltok is serving right now. He just hopes it works, because he’s tired, and he’s losing hope, and he’s afraid he’ll go mad over this if it takes them much longer.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

One of these days, Keith might stop bothering to remember the names of the planets or people they're called to help. The third call for assistance in five days, and at this point it's all starting to blur together. None of these missions were difficult or taxing, nor did they actually have anything to do with the Galra, and it's all starting to feel like a calling-the-firefighters-to-rescue-cats-from-trees scenario. That's hardly Voltron's purpose, but Allura argues that each answered call for help makes for a new ally, which neither of them has any good arguments against.

She's now talking to Shiro, heads put together to discuss regional customs, and not for the first time Keith wonders if he'd just slept through the lessons in the Garrison that prepared them for intergalactic diplomacy, or if Shiro has simply been born to this. Sure, he spent some time in the spotlight before Kerberos and got a crash course in smiling politely and answering questions with a bunch of large words woven around a lot of hot air. His affinity for learning facts by rote and remembering names probably plays a part. But none of that explains why people just _trust_ him wherever he goes, and how he wins their hearts and minds with a few words. He could rally an army behind him if the occasion required that, Keith is pretty sure.

Keith is about follow Lance and Hunk off the bridge, nap away the last half an hour or so until they're in orbit. But Shiro catches his eyes just before he leaves and waves him over, and it's not in Keith to turn him down. And so Keith trots over, standing behind Shiro and sneakily, in secret, threading their hands together behind Shiro's back where his body blocks it from Allura's view. If she were really paying attention, the way Keith stands so close he's almost pressed to Shiro's back would be it's own kind of clue, but she's too busy explaining the traditional greeting in the company of Cedriaan royalty. Keith doesn't really listen to her; ever since their first kiss only a few feet away from this very spot, the rest of the world fades out whenever Shiro's close enough that Keith can feel the heat radiating off his body, when Shiro's touching him. As if he's sensing as much, noticed Keith's zoning out, Shiro squeezes his hand, and then extracts himself altogether and points at a spot on the map of the planet, accompanied by another question.

Keith stands up a little straighter and tries to actually focus on the reply; he wouldn't put it past Shiro to actually try and quiz him later. He's annoying like that, sometimes, like he's still the senior cadet and teacher's assistant from the Garrison. In light of all the other things he's been since he was _that_ , though, Keith can't quite fault him for falling back to habits acquired during easier times.

 

***

 

There is nothing to fight on Cedriaa. The danger here exists in form of something like a volcano, threatening to spill bright blue acid on their capital. Once upon a time, the Cedriaa's population would have been able to fight that threat on its own; they have done so many times in the past. But their resources are drained as contributions to the Galran empire, and their strongest and bravest are drafted into the arena. They share the fate of so many other worlds. They are among the ones who hear of Voltron and decide that it's enough, and that they will offer their future help in exchange for momentary rescue, in the hope that, in the end, they will rewarded with their freedom.

Keith notices a change in Shiro the first time they step into the chambers of the Cedriaan queen, in order to cook up a strategy for the volcano what will imitate its traditional taming and be minimally invasive. It appears the volcano is an important part of their ecosystem, and just bombing it to kingdom come isn't an option. When they're done and ready to put the plan into effect, the queen smiles gratefully at Shiro and Allura in turn, a hand on each of their shoulders. The tremble that goes through Shiro's whole body in response is subtle, and the others don't even seem to notice. But Keith does; Keith thinks about little else while they all climb into their lions and set off on their mission.

 

***

 

After it's done and the death of millions is successfully averted, the queen throws them a banquet. Shiro tries to decline, citing the dearth of resources Cedriaa has and that it would not be necessary to waste so many of them on a celebration when all the Paladins did were their duty. That gets him a sidelong look from Allura – who immediately moves to sweet-talk the queen in the face of that affront – and puts from Lance and Hunk. There's a beat where Shiro blinks, breathes in, like he's gathering himself, but it's over before Keith can be sure he's really seen it and then he's smiling and nodding and apologizing for his misstep, reassuring the queen it was with the best of intentions.

At the first chance Keith gets – once they're all full and some a little drunk and the chatter turns from political and polite to casual and a little inappropriate – Keith captures Shiro's hand in his and leads him outside. Shiro doesn't resist, follows his lead like that's all he's been waiting for this whole time; someone who takes over, takes the weight from his back and places it on their own, even if only for a little while. And if that's what he needs, then Keith can offer him that. He'll do so gladly.

He doesn't falter until they're outside in the courtyard, in a quiet corner way out of earshot from the ballroom and hidden from sight by on three sides by hedgerows of exotic flowers. He sits Shiro down entwines their fingers and guides Shiro's head to lean on his shoulder with his other hand, gently brushing his fingertips along the short hair at the nape of Shiro's neck. Shiro sighs, a tired but content sound, and for while Keith just lets him rest.

Eventually, though, concern and curiosity get the better of him.

“You've been off since we arrived on the surface,” Keith says, and does his best not to make it a question. It's an observation, and Shiro can choose whether he wants to reply or let it sit unanswered.

“The queen,” Shiro starts, but then his voice dies of him and he presses his body a little closer to Keith's. “The queen had a daughter. The Galra took her as a tribute one year when Cedriaa didn't meet their expectations for export. They deal in food and flowers, you know? For banquets just like this one, held by the Galran high society. But agriculture is no exact science and sometimes there will be unexpected – “

“Had a daughter?” Keith prompts, interrupting him. He knows all of that too; it was in the file Allura showed them, and belonged to the part that she explained after Shiro made him pay attention. And right now Shiro's rambling, avoiding the point.

Shiro takes a deep breath, and it shudders through his whole body, reverberating through Keith in turn. “I killed her. I killed the Cedriaan princess. Drove a knife through her body because she had a sword at my throat and if I hadn't... if I hadn't it would have been me.”

His voice is thin and frail, a little choked, and that's a new kind of knife in Keith's heart, because for all the evidence Keith has seen of his turmoil so far, he's never seen Shiro cry. He sort of figured he'd be past that, that he'd been hurt too deeply for what tears could help wash away, but maybe it just doesn't work like that. He tries to imagine the horror of getting celebrated by the mother of a child you killed, and he can't even begin to wrap his head around the magnitude of that pain.

There are no words, nothing he can say, and so he turns his head and presses his forehead to Shiro's, then dips to kiss the silent tears away. Shiro startles, but allows it; closes his eyes and inhales yet again, but this time it seems like a steadying breath. He's the one who changes their angle, lowering his head so that Keith's lips are now hovering near his mouth, and leans it to make it a kiss.

Keith knows it's an escape, a distraction, an attempt to burn out a terrible memory by doing something pleasurable in the here and now. And yet he can't come up with a better way to offer comfort; maybe someone else someone could talk this better, find the right words, but he's not that person. He doesn't protest when Shiro straddles him and tugs at his jacket, and he doesn't protest at any point after that. He surely doesn't consider the scandal it would make if someone where to find them here, two Paladins of Voltron fucking in the pleasance of an allied planet's queen. He lets Shiro shift them, lift his shirt and kiss a trail down his chest, while he looks up at the night sky above them.

It's not their sky, not their stars, but Keith suspects that just helps him look up at them more fondly.

That is, until Shiro peels him out of his pants and underwear, drags them down so they're pooling around his ankles, and Keith feels the wet soil underneath his bare ass. Then his attention is captured by the sight of Shiro, holding his gaze while he resettles between his legs. The first touch of Shiro's tongue to the head of his cock is a shock to his system, both with the pure physical pressure of it and by the knowledge that it's _Shiro_ , that they're finally doing this, and Keith's eyes fall closed while he reaches out and cards his hand through Shiro's hair while his head bobs up and down. It's not in him to last, and he tugs at Shiro's hair when he's close, mumbles a warning, but Shiro doesn't move from his spot, swallows around him when he comes, and then sits up still licking his lips. What's more important is that he's grinning, the ghosts of his past temporarily chased away and the anguish on his face replaced with a happy and slightly mischievous expression.

Keith nudges him onto his back and curls around him, unzipping his pants in turn. Without too much ceremony he pulls them down to mid-thigh, spits onto his palm and reaches inside his boxers, and Shiro lets him do that too. He burrows into Keith's embrace and spreads his legs as wide as they go, head buried in the crook of Keith's neck as Keith slowly jerks him off. It's not long until Shiro's breathing speeds up and dissolves into quick, arrhythmic pants, occasionally interrupted by deep, low moans while Keith works him toward his release. He's quiet when he comes, his hand curling around Keith's arm as a pressure valve or an anchor to reality, Keith couldn't tell.

They allow themselves maybe ten minutes to lay there, half-naked and spent, before they set upon redressing and walk back to the the banquet to say their formal goodbyes, giving exhaustion as an excuse to retreat to their guest rooms for the night. They each got assigned their own room, and both agree that it would be inappropriate to leave one of the beds untouched. So they don't, but Keith stands it for maybe half an hour to stay in his own room before he decides he couldn't possibly less concerned with Cedriaan protocol and sneaks off to Shiro's room after all.

 

***

 

The next day, just before they leave, the queen takes Shiro aside. Keith follows on their heels, ignoring the irritated glance she throws him when he refuses to fall back. She then looks an inquiry at Shiro, who nods.

“Anything you have to say,” he confirms, “you can say in front of him.”

Thus reassured, Keith takes a step forward, positioning himself between her and Shiro, possibly overstepping several diplomatic guidelines in the process. Shiro stands a little straighter, too, but his head is still bowed, like he's preparing himself for an inevitable, heavy blow.

To Keith's – and probably Shiro's – surprise, the queen's expression gentles. She smiles and takes Shiro's prosthetic hand between both of hers, ignores the flinch he gives at the contact and the warning glare Keith shoots her for that alone.

“I know who you are,” she says, and Shiro flinches yet again. But she still doesn't release him, and her smile doesn't wane. “I know what you did. But that was not your choice, it was theirs. What you did here, all of you, to save my people, that _was_ your choice.”

“I...” Shiro mumbles, but it's as far as he gets. He looks up, lost for words, and Keith is ready to take over and defend him, but the queen shakes her head.

“No. I will not hear apologies or explanations. They aren't necessary.” Her tone is worthy of a queen, used to authority and for her words and decisions to be final, but her expression remains soft. “I forgive you.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Still lost in thought, Keith doesn't notice that Beltok has left the group of natives until he's directly in Keith's field of vision, smiling wide and nodding when their eyes meet. Keith stomps down on the surge of optimism that wants to unfurl itself in his belly. They've gotten this far before, only to then find out that either Shiro has been moved shortly before they arrived or that it hadn't been him to begin with. These moments, this stubborn hope, are almost worse than the uncertainty.

Finding one former prisoner in a galaxy that's going through the slow process of rebuilding itself is like searching for a very small needle in a very large haystack. The fall of the Empire left the infrastructure in its former provinces in an upheaval, and there are too few people to process too much information. It's been less than a year since Zarkon fell, only a few months since the headless chicken that had become of the Empire surrendered. Many officials and civil servants are still loyal to its former government, at least behind closed doors. Not every world remembers what it felt like to be free, and giving sovereignty back to those worlds that still do and want an existence without a central power to command them is anything but a smooth process.

And in the midst of it all, the Blades of Marmora lost Kollivan in a stupid skirmish with leftover Galran troupes, and Keith had found out that he'd been elected to succeed him. Beltok was the one who approached him, only days after the initiation ritual, and suggested that those in the Marmora who voted for his leadership would also support him going after Shiro. Those weren't his exact words, and he didn't actually mention Shiro at all, but he'd glanced to Kollivan's coffin with the same pain echoed in his eyes that Keith felt in his heart, and Keith had understood.

He rises to his feet and follows Beltok to a cluster of houses, made of clay and nestled against the rough walls of the cliff. His heart is beating in his throat, and he almost can't make himself walk through the door that's opened for him. Can't bring himself to squint into the half-dark of the windowless room to let his gaze roam over the face of every person sat at the long bench, talking amongst themselves over a modest meal. They all look worn out and beaten, dressed in mismatched borrowed clothes, unwashed, some of them still hurt or disfigured.

The sliver of white hair at the back of the room stands out as soon as Keith's gaze wanders that far and Keith's heart stops altogether. He says Shiro's name, stuttering out and losing his voice halfway, and clears his throat, then says it again, louder and with more conviction.

Shiro stands and turns, the same bewildered disbelief mirrored on his face that Keith himself feels, and whispers Keith's name in return.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Everything feels surreal, after they get back from the Blades' headquarter. The sensation is faintly familiar from when they first arrived in space, but it's a different flavor this time. There's a metallic taste on Keith's tongue and static in his brain, and he keeps glancing at the knife he now carries openly on his belt. Not for long; he'll get tired of looking at it soon, he suspects, will have to get rid of the visual reminder that _he isn't human_. Not entirely. He's got Galran blood. _Galran._ And besides, it's not like he even needs the knife to remind him. It'll be there in everyone's eyes from the moment he tells them.

He almost doesn't, not right away. They're about to scatter after their return, it's been a long day with big news and no one seems much in the mood for further socializing. Their minds are linked and it's pure luck that no one picked up on his suspicions so far, vague and unformed as they were. If it slips through the next time they're in battle that would put them at a disadvantage, might disrupt their bond, and cost lives. There's more at stake than his feelings, his fear of losing the closest thing to a real family he ever had.

“Wait,” he says, and his voice is too small, doesn't carry, so he says it again. “All of you, please wait.”

Five tired, curious faces turn his way, and beside him Shiro reaches for his hand. Keith allows the gesture of support, even though they try not to be obvious about their relationship, keep it confined to their quarters and the time they spend alone. Lance smirks, as though he's expecting an announcement of a scandalous nature, and Pidge elbows him in the side. Allura and Coran glance at towards the knife, and Keith suspects they already know what's coming, or may have a good guess. The open hostility that has crept onto Allura's face almost makes him change his mind. He doesn't meet Shiro's eyes yet. Couldn't bear the same wariness, hate or trepidation in them.

He recounts what happened during the trial, in curt and unadorned words. He doesn't leave out anything. He ends on the revelation that his parentage is a little more otherworldly than anyone expected.

No one says anything. There's mumbling, and awkwardness and disbelief charge the air to the point where it'd be thick enough to cut.

Shiro squeezes his hand, clearing his throat. “We'll talk about this some more later. For now, let's all get some rest. There's a battle coming, our biggest yet, and we'll need to be ready to face it.”

Everyone's attention shifts to Shiro, and there's more mumbling, but they listen to him. With a few agitated or confused glances, they each retreat to their quarters, and so do Keith and Shiro.

Shiro doesn't let go of his hand the whole way there. He doesn't say anything else, but he _doesn't let go_.

 

***

 

Keith dreams of his father that night. He's back in the shack, and his father is sitting there, looking through him like he's not even there, while Keith rants and rages and screams questions at him. Of course they'll remain unanswered; his father is gone, so is his mother, and anyone else who might be able to tell him anything about his past, his origin. He wakes with a start, breathless, his throat raw like he's actually been yelling that whole time.

From the way Shiro's looking at him, wide-eyed and concerned, maybe he has. Keith screws his eyes shut and pinches the bridge of his nose, flopping back down and hiding his face in the cushions.

“It doesn't really matter, you know,” Shiro says. He reaches out and puts his hand on Keith's bare shoulder, and Keith shakes him off, instantly furious.

He sits up again and glares at Shiro in the half-dark – the lights in the castle never dim all the way. “That's easy for you to say.”

Shiro cocks his head. He holds up his arm, the prosthetic, and moves its fingers one by one. “Yeah. Because I have no idea what it's like to suddenly feel different, because of things that you can't retrace and might never fully remember.” He sighs. “Look, I know it's not the same situation. But nothing changed. You're still who you are yesterday. And what matters isn't your past or your race. What matters is what you do here, now, what path you settle on and what kind of person you decide you are, every day anew.” He holds Keith's eyes and reaches out to touch him again, this time fitting his palm around Keith's jaw, thumb stroking along the corner of Keith's mouth. “And I happen to love that person very much, okay?”

Keith takes in the words, lets them wash over his spinning mind. It's the first time either of them ever said it, and his eyes sting with the relief of hearing it now, after everything they went through today. “Me too.” He shakes his head, because that makes no sense, wasn't what he was going to say. “I mean, I love you too.”

“I know what you mean.” Shiro smiles, his hand moving to wrap around Keith's neck and draw him closer for a kiss. “And if it helps at all, I can promise you that I'm here with you. I'll help you figure this out. If you ever feel like you don't belong anywhere else, please know what you'll always belong with me.”

If anyone else said these words to him, Keith might laugh them off. But Shiro... He's proven he means them, long before today, long before ever saying them out loud. Keith lies back down and tugs at Shiro to do the same, snuggles so close that all that exists in the world is Shiro's scent, the sound of his breathing, the warmth of his body.

 

***

 

Soon after that, they stand together on the balcony of the castle, the sun going down behind them, in the midst of their teammates and found family. They talk about the end of this battle, the possibility of going back to Earth. Lance's and Hunk's eyes shimmer with yearning for the families they left behind, Pidge's shimmer with determination to find hers. Coran takes Allura's hand, and she smiles a sad but hopeful smile at him.

Keith looks at Shiro, and he finds the same promise reflected there that Shiro gave him out loud just a few days ago. And he believes it; believes that, where ever he came from, whatever revelations might be waiting for him should he choose to seek them out, he will always have a home.

Mere hours later, Shiro is gone.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The names are about the only thing Shiro remembers, at first. Keith had been warned about that, the Galran practice of wiping everyone who managed to flee from their clutches once, in order to try and prevent it from happening again. It's still a punch to the gut. There's recognition in Shiro's eyes, but it's edged out by confusion. He asks after Pidge and Hunk and Lance, then frowns when the answers seem to bring up no context. That he remembers them at all is astounding, Beltok says, a testament to the strength of Shiro's will and the depth of their bond as Paladins.

That statement, more than anything, causes Keith to program a new course right after he's dropped Beltok off at the Blades' headquarters. He only musters up the guts to hail Allura when he's halfway there. They all parted on good terms, but it's been months of radio silence, and he pushes out a breath in relief when she smiles at him from the screen. Her greeting is casual and friendly, if a little distant, until Keith adjusts the angle of the camera and it catches Shiro, sitting in a corner, still filthy and dressed in rags, quite literally staring into space.

“Is that really...” she starts, but she doesn't complete the question, like she doesn't want to hear the answer in case she's mistaken.

“Yeah,” Keith says. He glances at Shiro, who's eyes go wide when he looks at Allura's should-be-familiar-face on the screen, and it physically pains him to direct his attention back to her. “He's not all there. I want to bring him to the castle. A place he knows well, you know? I think it might help.”

Allura nods, her face settling into a composed, downright regal expression, a formal smile. Shielding herself against a wave of emotions, and Keith always both hated and envied that she knew how to do that. “Of course. I'll have Coran prepare your old quarters.”

Aboard the castle, Keith takes Shiro through the motions: a quick tour around the bridge, the common room and the kitchen, then a quick shower, redressing him in comfortable clothes. He saves the lions for last, and his heart is beating in his throat when he leads Shiro towards Black, sitting dormant in her hangar, head resting between her paws like an actual sleeping cat.

Shiro wanders away from him then, approaching her. He reaches out and touches a hand to her metallic snout, stroking it slowly. She whirs to life under his touch, yellow eyes lighting up, and he startles when she opens her mouth to let him in. Throws a glance back at Keith, unsure, and doesn't move a muscle until Keith crosses the hanger and takes his hand, leading him inside. The screen lights up, displaying... memories, might be the best way to describe them. Shiro. Keith. The other three, fighting together, or goofing around. The early days, when neither had any idea what they were doing, and the later days, with Shiro gone, and Keith feels Black wailing in his mind while she mourns Shiro's loss all over again.

Keith looks over at Shiro, who watches the display with quiet awe on his face. Understanding, too, unless Keith's given in to wishful thinking. But no, there's recognition there, he's sure, he'd bet his life on it, and when the screen goes black again Shiro's lips curve up into a proud smile that's so completely and quintessentially _him_ that it nearly takes the ground out from under Keith's feet.

“We won,” Shiro says, barely above a whisper. “We beat them.”

Fervently, Keith nods, and then he can't contain himself any longer. He all but leaps at Shiro, and even though Shiro reads his intent in time and opens his arms in time, the force of it nearly makes them tumble to the cockpit floor. Shiro laughs, and the sound echoes through the cockpit, through Black, through them both. He rubs his palm soothingly against the back of Keith's neck, while Keith presses his face to Shiro's shoulder, closes his eyes and breathes him in.

“Welcome home,” he mumbles, voice small, the words all but lost against the fabric of Shiro's shirt.

Shiro's hand stills, and he turns his head, pressing his lips to the top of Keith's head. “You too. I promised, didn't I?”

**Author's Note:**

>  
> 
> _You taught me the courage of stars before you left_  
>  How light carries on endlessly, even after death  
> With shortness of breath, you explained the infinite  
> How rare and beautiful it is to even exist
> 
>  
> 
> (Sleeping At Last – Saturn)  
> 


End file.
